


Stages

by atenaglory



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-01-19 00:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12399156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atenaglory/pseuds/atenaglory
Summary: Having successfully defeated Sovereign and delayed the Reapers, the Normandy team have begun to go their separate ways. Garrus, who left his life on the Citadel to help Commander Shepard stop Saren, has returned to his job at C-Sec and is determined to make a change: he'll follow the rules, and not just make his own. But immediately he is faced with antipathy from his superiors and the reality that the Normandy crew is about the only group of people that even believes in the Reapers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a study of Garrus' development on Omega, but I realized that in my head the changes that I wanted to write about had to have started when he left the Normandy. I'm writing about a lot of stuff that I'm just curious about, to be honest! But yeah, I know the summary stops there, but I plan to go all the way through Omega, up until the confrontation with Sidonis. Maybe further!  
> FYI: part of the "stuff I'm curious about" includes how Garrus goes from "protege of a perfect paragon" to "violent vigilante" 'cause my first playthrough was with a Paragon Shep. I'll more than likely write a separate piece about his relationship with Renegade Shep once I've finished my Renegade playthrough, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this!  
> Also copious shakarian since that's my MO

“Come… come back and see me sometimes, alright?” Garrus quietly offered to Commander Shepard. She looked up at him with her characteristic even gaze. They stood in one of the few operational Presidium ports by the SSV Normandy, which sat on standby waiting for its commanding officer. Saren was dead, Sovereign destroyed, and it was time for Garrus to try again with C-Sec, as he had promised the commander shortly before their trip to Ilos.

“Don’t look so sad, Garrus,” Shepard smiled at him. “I told you to come with us, but you kept saying ‘ _No. I have to do this and I have to do it right, Commander._ ’”

Her impression made him frown at her slightly, in response to which her grin grew. He suppressed a snarky response, still not feeling quite comfortable with the change from “mentor-and-mentee” to “colleagues-slash-friends” that his departure from the Normandy had created.

“I’m a Citadel Council Spectre. What use would I be if I never came back to the Citadel? Anyway, I should go. Good luck, Garrus. And don’t be a stranger. You know how to get in touch with me.”

Shepard patted him on the arm and, reassuming her role as Commander, nodded briefly before jogging to the platform that led back to her ship. Garrus watched, conflicted, as he fought the urge to jog behind her like he had been doing in various parts of the galaxy for the past few months. He hadn’t known Shepard for that long, but he did know that she had changed his life. But now it was time to put what he’d learned from her to use, back in C-Sec.

He lingered as the departure alarms sounded, and watched the docking clamps lift as the Normandy glided away from the Presidium, back out towards the Widow Relay in the Citadel’s Widow System. Although he had voluntarily left the Normandy, watching it take off without him made him feel a little hollow. His parting from Shepard and his friends had been more out of a sense of duty than a personal desire. Following Shepard had taught him the merits of showing mercy and doing things right, not just quickly, and using these methods in C-Sec he hoped to prove himself worthy to become a Spectre and follow a little more closely in Shepard’s footsteps. Maybe he could even become someone who, like Shepard, had the authority to do things the fast way, but the integrity to do them the right way. He could only try his hardest not to let his feelings get in the way and work with all the extra steps that C-Sec used, as unnecessary as he thought they were.

The main reason for his determination to try again with C-Sec was that, over the few months that they had spent hunting Saren, Garrus had truly grown to admire Commander Shepard. He’d studied the way that she fought, the way that she gave clear and quick orders, and how she took in her surroundings and adapted her movements and commands to fit the terrain, enemy, and whatever changed in their situation. But also on the ship, he observed how she took the time to make the rounds every Normandy day-cycle, as long as they weren’t on a mission. She was an impeccable leader—even though everyone needed time to themselves, she put her crew first, checking in with them, discussing her leadership and decisions, making sure they were comfortable, learning about their backgrounds… And she never treated them as though they were beneath her. Although she was their commanding officer, she treated everyone as equals. Even when Garrus had, admittedly somewhat foolishly, told her about his excitement to be working with a Spectre so that they could get things done properly without the C-Sec red tape, her response about doing things right, not fast, was delivered as though to an equal. He’d had the opportunity to respond or debate with her, but his military training and long-standing respect for her (knowing of her status as the Hero of Elysium) kicked in before he stepped out of line. He wasn’t a part of the Alliance, but while he was a part of the Normandy she was his commanding officer, and he wanted to know what made her a good leader. So instead of arguing, he chose to contemplate her methods and thought processes when she disagreed with him.

When the Normandy was no longer visible, Garrus took a deep breath and turned to the elevator behind him, picking up his duffle bag. He contemplated his current predicament, while thanking himself for keeping his apartment on Zakera Ward. Now he was going to have to beg for his old job back, after abandoning C-Sec. Shepard said she’d put in a good word for him as a Spectre, but he suspected that her interference might have further agitated Executor Pallin.

The elevator doors slid open to the familiar basement level of the Presidium C-Sec HQ, which gave access to the tunnels that connected the Presidium with each Ward. This area also doubled as an immigration processing center, so it made sense for C-Sec HQ to sit on top of it. He quickly refamiliarized himself with the self-absorbed bustle that characterized the Presidium’s inhabitants. Everyone acted like they had somewhere to be, while also pretending not to be able to see anyone around them. He did note, however, that there was the added panic and franticness of being the survivors of a Geth attack. He checked in with a secretary, who advised him to go through C-Sec to be admitted onto the Presidium, then made his way to the elevator that would give him access to the ground floor, and Executor Pallin’s office.

As he pressed the “G” button in the elevator, reminiscing on all those fun little arguments he used to have with whoever else Shepard would bring along on missions, he heard someone call out to hold the door. He did so, and watched as a human man jogged into the elevator, pressed the button for the 5th floor, and quickly jabbed the “close” button. Garrus looked at the man’s familiar C-Sec armor before glancing up at his face. His skin was dark brown, and the skin on the lower parts of his face around his mouth, and on top of his head were lightly covered in black and grey hair. He had large brown eyes that were staring straight at Garrus’ face unchecked.

“My god… Garrus Vakarian!” The man shouted incredulously. After a split second of confusion Garrus recognized his old friend.

“Butler!”

“Glad to see you’re not too famous to remember me,” Butler laughed, slapping Garrus on the back. “I hear you’re a big hero now! Where’s your entourage? Your Spectre girlfriend?”

_Girlfriend??_

“Butler, how is it that your information is so off? Aren’t you a detective?” Garrus maintained his composure, although his neck grew warm at Butler’s suggestion. He could barely imagine them as _friends_ at this point, let alone… And in any case, Garrus didn’t think too much of humans. Still _Commander Shepard_ was something else. The way she talked, the way she used her aura and reputation alone to convince people to do what she wanted without ever touching her gun, her passion for justice and preference for mercy, her genius on the battlefield and kindness off, her _eyes…._ The first human Spectre had an attractiveness that surpassed physical beauty without overlooking it, and crossed species preferences. No one would disagree with him on that. Or maybe he was thinking too hard.

“I’m gonna try to get my job back here, Butler,” he switched the topic.

Butler raised his eyebrows and smiled. “You? You were so excited to get out of C-Sec that I thought your ass would light on fire and you’d rocket right out of here onto the Normandy.”

“Ha-ha,” Garrus responded sarcastically. “Well I want to give it another try. I still want to catch the bad guy, Butler, I just know that I can do it properly at C-Sec.”

“What, your Spectre told you that?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Huh. I guess they ain’t all bad.”

The elevator bell rang, and the doors opened to the ground floor of the building.

“I’ll catch you around, Butler,” Garrus said, exiting the elevator. Then he stood tall, readied himself for some uncharacteristic groveling, and marched to Executor Pallin’s office. The phrases “your Spectre” and “Spectre girlfriend” looped in his mind, though. Rumors were a funny thing, but he wasn’t sure if that was why he let one quiet chuckle escape before forcing the thoughts from his mind entirely.

“Garrus Vakarian,” Pallin began with all his pomp as Garrus strolled into the office. “It seems the SSV Normandy just left. I was assuming you’d left with it. What in the world could bring you here to my office _after_ your above-the-law Spectre friend has already left?”

There it was again— “your Spectre”. Of course, Pallin was just making sure Garrus remembered that he abandoned C-Sec to help Shepard.

“I would like to be reinstated, sir,” Garrus said plainly. He refused to be baited, to give a reason for Pallin to deny him.

“Reinstate you! Wouldn’t you rather be off killing people with no consequences and no one to answer to, under the guise of a defender of justice?”

Garrus wanted to argue, to point out the obvious fact that Shepard answered to the Council like everyone else as well as the Alliance, to question whether the methods of attaining justice were really to be debated, but he remained calm.

“No, sir,” he said simply. “I want to be a C-Sec officer, and help stop crime on the Citadel the right way. Not the fast way.”

Pallin studied him skeptically.

“Very well, Vakarian,” he said after a few long seconds. “Your duties as _patrol officer_ begin at 0700 Presidium Time tomorrow, back at the Upper Zakera Department. You can start by helping the efforts to clean up the debris from the Geth attack, and searching for survivors in destroyed apartments.”

Garrus nodded, and then turned to leave.

“Officer Vakarian,” Pallin’s voice came sharply again.

“Yes sir,” Garrus said, turning back to face his boss.

“I notice you’ve come in here heavily armed. I assume you haven’t been through processing yet. If those guns have been purchased legally, you can keep them in your home. Not on your person and _certainly_ not out in the open. I hope you understand that you may only carry a C-Sec-issued pistol while on duty. I expect to see your up-to-date carrying permit and the registration for each of those firearms before your shift tomorrow morning.”

Pallin just had to make things hard.

“Sir, I received these weapons from Commander Shepard while aiding her in the fight against the rogue Spectre Saren.”

“Then I’m sorry, but we’ll have to confiscate them until she can send you the registration.”

Garrus complied, relinquishing his sniper rifle and assault rifle silently, wondering if he would have had better luck going straight to his apartment. Maybe his immigration officer would have been someone he knew, and he could have convinced them to give him some time to get the registration. But oh well. He could only hope now that Shepard would come back soon.

Pallin added, “And before you leave headquarters, get your paperwork and a sidearm from Personnel. I assume you have your old armor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

When he left C-Sec Headquarters, Garrus took in the scenery of the Presidium for the first time since their confrontation with Saren in the Tower. It was as bad as one could expect. Enormous chunks of debris littered the area. Many structures and buildings had been destroyed. Looking back at C-Sec HQ, he now realized that the top of the building was speared by the tip of one of Sovereign’s legs. The Citadel’s inhabitants had adapted surprisingly quickly. Since the battle for the Citadel, Shepard had (with some nudging from Joker and Ashley) taken the Normandy’s crew on a victory cruise, which had doubled as a farewell trip, back to Eden Prime. They had returned to the Citadel with relatively few detours afterwards. The visit to Eden Prime had been nice—the people there had rebuilt, and upon realizing that the hero Shepard was visiting, threw an enormous celebration. Eden Prime was the first human settlement Garrus had visited on shore leave, and it had left a good impression. He’d ended the visit thinking about seeing more of them some day, and idly wondering about Shepard’s home on Earth.

He sidestepped a huge metal panel, bringing himself back to reality. The amount of debris was overwhelming. There were craters in the river, bridges and buildings had been destroyed, scorch marks sullied the white ground, and there were still a few areas from which smoke drifted and sparks flew. He saw that the front of Sha’ira’s had been crushed by a piece of what looked like an Alliance ship. He wondered how long it would take to rebuild the area as he approached a taxi stand. Continuing his survey of the damage to the Citadel, he made his way to Zakera Ward.

The Presidium had apparently taken the brunt of the damage, but the Wards hadn’t escaped unscathed. He’d heard that, of the five Wards, Tayseri had suffered the most damage, but he could see from the shattered windows, scorch marks here and there, and smaller pieces of ships and Reaper debris, that Zakera had felt the attack, too.

The return to his apartment was underwhelming. The dim light of Zakera filtered in through thick shutters, which he perpetually left open. The two-room apartment had relatively little lighting, so he’d bought a few lamps that gave the place a blue glow. He switched them on and headed into his bedroom, where he put his bag down and dropped onto his bed. Although a bed made for Turians, which was long but formed into well-cushioned half-sphere at the head, was a welcome sight after months of sleeping on the boards that the humans called beds or the creeper, which he’d fallen asleep on while working on the Mako more times than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help thinking that his life now wasn’t going to be… anything. He checked his omni-tool for any messages, but before he got too disappointed over his empty inbox, he figured he could take things into his own hands.

Commander,

      I know you just left, but I figured I’d update you. I’m back at C-Sec already, though I’m just a regular officer. Still, it’s better than nothing. I’m going to earn my promotion back to detective through hard work, using what you taught me.

                                                      Thanks again for everything,

                                                                              --Garrus

Oh, and by the way, the guns you gave me got confiscated so if they happened to be purchased and not just picked off a dead enemy, I’d love to have the registration. If that’s not too much trouble.

He hesitated, but eventually sent the message, shut the omni-tool off, and went to bed.

 

Over the next few weeks, Garrus quickly put aside the loneliness of having parted from the Normandy, as the cleanup was an incredible task. During this time, Garrus was focused almost entirely on relief efforts. Unfortunately, there were always some people that used the confusion to take advantage of others, but Garrus could handle things like pickpockets and looters, and the paperwork gave him a break from the heavy lifting that cleaning up the debris entailed. In addition, most of the destruction was on the Presidium, but most of the criminals were in the Wards, making for less chaos than one would expect. Garrus’ job was focused on cleanup, search and rescue, setting up and monitoring temporary shelters, relocating residents and families, etc. Though he was an Upper Zakera officer, free hands were sent where they were needed, so he spent some time on the Presidium and Tayseri at first, meaning that he saw his old friend Butler every so-often. The short conversations they had would brighten up Garrus’ day. In the end, however, cleanup was the easiest part, making his time working on the Presidium short-lived. It seemed that _some_ people understood the worth (and perhaps the significance) of Sovereign’s remains, and the relief effort received unwelcome help from hands unseen. After a week or two, there was little more than debris from Alliance or Citadel Defense ships to dispose of. The remains of the Reaper had disappeared along with valuables left behind in nearby abandoned homes.

Unfortunately, the disappearance of the Reaper debris gave denial an easy foothold. He first noticed it shortly after cleanup began. He was working with some volunteers and a human officer he’d been acquainted with since before he left C-Sec named Reed, who mentioned it in small talk.

“Saren’s flagship was huge, wasn’t it?” Reed had marveled, cluelessly. “But somehow it seems like all we’re cleaning up is Alliance ship wreckage.”

“Yeah, but who knows how many people are out to get their hands on Reaper tech,” Garrus had responded casually, flinging some twisted metal panels into a dumpster.

“ _Reapers_?” Looking now, Garrus realized that Reed was staring at him with heavy skepticism, an emotion he’d learned to read in humans from his favorite Alliance Gunnery Chief.

“Yeah. You know, Sovereign, giant ship that attacked the Citadel?”

“What, you mean you believe that crap?”

“Believe it? I _saw_ it! I _fought_ it, Reed!”

“Oh, right, you were on Shepard’s team. No wonder you believe it, she was supposedly pretty insistent with the ‘Reaper’ thing.”

“Because it’s the _truth_.”

“Okay, take it easy. I just didn’t peg you as the type to be interested in conspiracy theories, is all.”

Garrus let the conversation end there, and distracted himself by wondering if Shepard knew anything about a ship called the _Jakarta_. He didn’t speak to Reed much again after that.

But he still noticed it in conversations that he overheard, how news reports insisted that the danger was over and focused on the Geth in their descriptions of the attack. Even when he got his assignments the damage was always blamed on the rogue Spectre Saren and his Geth allies. The discreet and thorough omission of the word “Reaper” and the name “Sovereign” from the Citadel as a whole, and the relative calm of the Citadel’s inhabitants and visitors, as though nothing bad could ever happen to them again, was both jarring and aggravating.

Garrus’ frustration rapidly increased as the days passed. He did his job thoroughly, requesting permission to deviate from his patrol course in case of suspicious activity, filling out paperwork when anything unexpected (or anything at all) happened on the job, letting the law take its course in general. He frequently asked Executor Pallin and his captain, Naventina, if there was anything he could do to be reinstated as a detective, but was always met with some rendition of, “Just keep doing your job. We’re watching your progress.” Captain Naventina was another “by the books” Turian, and he seemed almost as irritated as Pallin that Garrus had come back. Still, Garrus did his work to the best of his ability. But the stagnation in his life and the willful ignorance of the general public were steadily driving him insane. The transition from life in battle with Commander Shepard to a boring wake up-work-come home-bed routine didn’t help, either. He knew that this was the right way to do things, but something had to change soon, or he would end up quitting again. While he waited, he put in a request to be considered for Spectre candidacy, but the lack of response only made the days seem longer.

In the first two months of his time back at C-Sec, Garrus made a lot of hard decisions in order to be the perfect officer. Calling for backup when he saw something suspicious instead of going in on his own, using time he could spend patrolling on paperwork, following his orders carefully even when he didn’t agree with them. He was constantly reporting his activities, even when he thought they should be self-explanatory, or needed no explanation. He never took risks and treated small crimes the same as big crimes. The hardest thing to do was taking in obvious drug addicts. Purchasing and being in possession of most drugs was a crime on the Citadel, even though Garrus felt that a better way of tackling to drug problem was to lock up the dealers and treat the addicts. It seemed to him that there was a particularly nasty strain of Red Sand, as he had to take many addicts with extreme symptoms into custody. He couldn’t take it, though, and after the second victim he found, he asked Captain Naventina if there was any way they could integrate some sort of rehabilitative care into the victims’ time. Naventina, who had historically disliked Garrus for his methods, had given a surprising response.

“Alright, Vakarian. Submit the paperwork and go have a chat with Executor Pallin, since this is obviously more than just Zakera’s problem, and we’ll see if this goes anywhere. I’ll back you up however I can.”

Pallin was a busy man, however, and Garrus’ proposal ended with a frustrating, “I’ll see what I can do.” This was why Garrus took matters into his own hands. That was the furthest any of his attempts to change things had at C-Sec ever gone. Usually things ended with “You can’t do that because of this law” or “You have to see the bigger picture” or some other stupid excuse. But, thinking about his promise to Shepard to do things the right way, he pressed on. If he one day, by continuing on his current path, rose far enough through the ranks, he could change the rules himself. Still, his patience grew thinner by the day. If he couldn’t do anything about the Reapers, especially given the unwillingness to even believe that they existed, he should at least be allowed to fight the Citadel’s concrete problems. The ones nobody could deny were happening. Drug and weapon smuggling, murders, child trafficking, organized crime. The shining beacon of galactic civilization had all of these problems, too. It just covered them up better. And as long as he was following the rules, he couldn’t do much to stop them unless he was a detective.

And then his big break came in the form of a message from Butler.

Garrus,

Meet me at the Aquarius Lounge in Lower Zakera tomorrow at 1600 Presidium time. I have a case that I think you could help me with.

                                                                     --Butler

A case? Did Butler realize that Garrus wasn’t a detective anymore? They had worked a case or two together in the past, though—crimes that went between Zakera and the Presidium, or spanned the Citadel—and if he could find a way to do it without overstepping his boundaries (or at least, a way to do it without getting caught), he would leap at the chance.

The next day, after his patrol was complete he made his way to Aquarius. The place was dark, with dim overhead lighting and blue and purple light strips on the walls. It had a few tables for dining, as well as a dancefloor, pool tables and assorted games, and some couches. He saw Butler seated at a table in the corner of the room with two beers, one red-rimmed and one blue, waving him over.

“Garrus,” Butler greeted him as he approached.

“Butler,” Garrus nodded, taking a seat. “Always good to see you.”

“Likewise, my friend. Now listen.”

“Wait a second Butler, you know I’m not a detective, right? There’s only so much I can do to help you in my position.”

“I’m surprised, Garrus,” Butler grinned. “You never struck me as _by the book_.”

Garrus remained quiet.

“Okay, things change,” Butler conceded. “But that’s why I got permission for you. My captain, your captain, and your favorite Executor have all approved. It took more ass-kissing than I’m interested in disclosing. But if you play this right, there might be a promotion in it for you, and you can be right back where you started.”

“Butler, you…” Garrus had no idea what to say. He’d begun to think he’d never be a detective again.

“I’d heard that your attitude and methods had changed, and remembered what you said about your Spectre. Figured you’d be more use to us as a detective, so I called in a few favors. It’s where you belong.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Garrus finally exhaled. He hadn’t felt this encouraged about anything since his time with Shepard.

“Oh, and uh, speaking of your Spectre,” Butler continued, slightly raising his voice. He waved across to the couches and Garrus whipped his head around incredulously to see a human woman clad in armor, drink in hand, get up and saunter over to them. He’d been thinking about when he could start the job, when he could hear the details of the case, how quickly he could become a detective again, how much paperwork he was going to have to do for this case, but when he saw her confident grin and her eyes reflecting the blue and purple light of the lounge, all of his thoughts went silent and she was all he could focus on. She sat down at the table casually, still grinning at Garrus.

“Evening, officers.” It had been too long since he’d heard her voice—deeper than most human women he’d met, but smooth and naturally appealing.

“Shepard!” Garrus couldn’t hide his delight if he wanted to. This evening couldn’t get any better. “What are you—why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“I asked her to keep it quiet,” Butler said slyly.

“What? How do you two even know each other?”

“Well, I was in the area and had some business with Councilor Anderson. It was short notice, which is why I didn’t let you know I was coming.”

“I just overheard that the SSV Normandy was docking and flagged the commander down as she came onto the station,” Butler laughed. “She must have thought I was insane. Asked her if she wanted to brighten up your evening. But anyway listen, I need to get up early in the morning. I’ll brief you on the case tomorrow, Officer.”

Butler got up, nodding to them, and saw himself out. Garrus watched him leave, overcome with gratitude. He hoped he could return the favor someday.

When Butler was gone, he turned back to Shepard.

“It’s good to see you, Commander,” he greeted her properly. He wondered how many times he’d greet her with that exact phrase. Could he help that it was the truth?

“You too, Garrus. How’s C-Sec treating you?”

“Oh, where to start?”

“I’ll accept a maximum of two complaints, Officer Vakarian,” she teased, then raised her glass to her lips.

Garrus laughed, naturally relaxing. He rarely saw Shepard in a casual setting like this, and mused over how unguarded she seemed. This was a side of her he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. Still, though he knew she was joking, it was true that now wasn’t the time to complain. He didn’t know when he’d be seeing her again, and he ought to at least try to be positive.

“Well, if all goes well, I’ll be a detective again soon.”

Shepard paused mid-sip, and her eyes alone moved to meet his.

“You didn’t expect them to put me back where I was after I walked off the job to go gallivanting around with a Spectre, did you?”

Shepard lowered her glass now, and rested her fist on the table. Her face had grown serious, an expression Garrus was used to. He felt a knot in his stomach that he hadn’t been fully aware of loosen.

“Do I need to have a talk with Executor Pallin?”

Garrus’ mandibles twitched in amusement and admiration now, as he saw Shepard shift into Commander mode over something as silly as his position at C-Sec. It reminded him why he wanted to be like her, and why he would always fight for her when she asked.

“It’s alright, Shepard. Butler’s helping me out. Plus, how is using your pull as a Spectre ‘doing things the right way’?”

Shepard laughed, a short “heh”, and relaxed again. Garrus’ eyes lingered on her curved lips, and his stomach tightened again.

“Fair point,” she said simply.

“So? What have you been up to, Hero of the Citadel?”

“Me? Fighting Geth.”

“ _Geth_. Shepard, something isn’t right. Everyone saw Sovereign, and we’re in the middle of relief and cleanup from _Sovereign’s_ attack, but no one believes that Sovereign exists. Everyone is acting like the whole thing is over and the Geth were entirely responsible. Most people have never even heard of the Reapers, and the rest think it’s a conspiracy theory.”

“I know,” Shepard sighed. “I’m getting static from the Council, too. Anderson argues for me every time I meet with them, but now they’ve started sending me out into the Traverse, out of their way, to wipe out Geth. They’re probably just trying to placate me, so that once there aren’t any more Geth to fight I’ll shut up.”

“It’s bullshit, Shepard.”

“I know, but it’s alright. I’ll figure something out eventually. People don’t want to believe their safety is fragile. They don’t want to think that what happened here could happen again.”

“They have to! They have to prepare to fight back!”

“No, Garrus. They don’t. That’s what I’m out there fighting for. I do it so that hopefully they’ll never have to. And as a Spectre, I can do things that the Alliance can’t.”

Garrus felt pride and awe swell up in his chest. How did she always inspire him so effortlessly? She was just one woman, yet she always seemed to carry the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. But not like a burden. She held her insurmountable tasks up for everyone to see, and finished them seemingly without breaking a sweat. He remembered seeing the vids from when she was awarded the Alliance’s Star of Terra. At that time, he hadn’t thought much of it. Although it was more than impressive that she’d held her position and singlehandedly stopped Elysium from being lost, humans knew about Batarian aggression and had chosen to expand into the Skyllian Verge anyway, so he’d considered the Skyllian Blitz a natural consequence. He’d admired the soldier—the _concept_ of Shepard—on some level, but thought little of humanity in general, and this balance had led to his ultimate indifference. But now, she sat in front of him, leaning her head on one arm and studying her drink while again planning a singlehanded defense of innocent lives. Though she had a small team now, the scale was much bigger. Her eyes seemed to shine, even in the low light of the lounge. Watching her, he couldn’t help but hope that she would offer him the chance to be part of her team again once she figured out her next move against the Reapers.

“But it’s alright,” she repeated, sitting back up and looking at him. “I’m in the Traverse and the Terminus Systems a lot these days, so at least I’m getting to see all kinds of new places. Getting to see space was actually one of the reasons I became a soldier, you know.” She laughed, and then said sarcastically, “I even got to see _Omega_.”

“ _Omega_?” Garrus nearly choked on his drink. “And how did that trip go?”

“Oh, it was… something, alright. We stopped there to refuel, and in the hour that I was there I shot three different Vorcha who tried to steal from me, got spat at, got propositioned about ten times—half of which happened directly after shooting the Vorcha—and saw more pools of blood and vomit than I thought were possible in one place.”

Garrus laughed. Omega was a cesspool. Everyone was either a criminal or an honest person living in poverty with no way out. He vaguely wondered who would voluntarily live or even visit there.

“Anyway, I should go,” Shepard said in her usual abrupt manner, and stood up. “I’ve gotta head back to Omega, actually. Well, that area, anyway. Got an assignment from the Council—unusually high Geth activity and ships falling off the map in the Omega Nebula.”

Garrus looked up at her as she downed the rest of her drink and set the glass down with a _click_. Then, muttering “oh yeah” to herself, she reached behind her and unclipped two guns.

“The HMWSR Master sniper rifle and the HMWA Master assault rifle, complete with—” she pulled out two datapads “—all the proper documents. Tell C-Sec to keep your old guns.”

“Damn, Shepard, you really came through.”

“You know I would for my favorite Turian.”

“Oh, please,” he chuckled, though his subvocals would have given away how startled he was by her declaration. He thanked the spirits she couldn’t understand them. “You only know, what, four Turians?”

“And you’re my favorite of those four,” she said shrewdly.

He gave her a sarcastic look, and grabbed the guns to get a closer look. He couldn’t wait to test them out.

“Anyway, I’ll see you around, Garrus. I hope you enjoy your new toys. Oh, and good luck with C-Sec. I know you can do it.”

And with that, she was gone again. Other than the souvenirs she left, it felt like she’d never even come.

All the time they’d spent together on the Normandy felt like a different lifetime, now.

Garrus finished his own drink and went back to his apartment. When he got there, he headed straight to bed, with the images of Shepard’s eyes, lit by the purple and blue of the lounge, and the curve of her lips lingering in his mind for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Garrus was still thinking about his conversation with Shepard when he woke up the next morning. Maybe it was just the effect of their time together, or maybe he’d been subconsciously responding to Shepard’s attitude, but he had been far more casual with her than usual. She hadn’t seemed to notice or mind, though. Becoming friends with Commander Shepard was apparently easier than it sounded. Or perhaps this was just a small perk of having returned to C-Sec. He’d seen her smile more in their last two meetings than during the whole mission to take Saren down, or at least that was how it felt. She’d almost always been business, and although it had been unspoken and unofficial, she had taken the role as his mentor seriously. Perhaps she had been more casual around the other members of the crew, those that hadn’t been labeled her protégé (a label Garrus still wasn’t entirely sure he deserved), like Ashley who, despite her military upbringing, had a knack for teasing that made people naturally relax (or stoop to her level), or Tali who, fresh out of the Migrant Fleet and barely exposed to how harsh life could be for a Quarian alone in the galaxy, had latched onto Shepard like a sister. But even at celebrations Shepard tended to quietly observe the others’ merriment with a look of satisfaction on her face that didn’t quite make it to a smile.

She seemed different now, though. Despite the inane public response to the Reapers—or the total lack of response—Shepard seemed much more relaxed. Garrus wished he could brush off the situation like she seemed to. He’d only become tenser since defeating Saren. But maybe that was the kind of thing you had to let roll off your back when you were a leader like Shepard. Garrus felt happy fighting Saren and following Shepard’s lead because he knew that he was doing something for the greater good, and trusted Shepard to make the right decisions. But Shepard was a newly initiated Spectre who represented the Alliance and all of humanity on a galactic stage. She was the one who was responsible for all of the decisions. Perhaps to her, defeating Saren felt more like a weight off her shoulders than anything else. Or, hell, maybe she was just happy to see him. Even he had toned down his normal seriousness (despite the inexplicable nerves he’d experienced) since seeing her again was definitely a special occasion. They were friends now, after all.

Today was his day off, and he was supposed to go to Butler’s apartment in the evening, so Garrus decided to spend his morning walking around the Presidium. He noted that it was being rebuilt markedly faster than the Wards. Of course, the diplomats were more important than average citizens. Disgusting. In the end, maybe he wasn’t meant to be on the Citadel—the ugly diplomacy was simply a part of life here. Still, the Presidium was beautiful, even with the excessive construction work. It truly stood up to its reputation as the center of galactic civilization.

As he sat lost in thought in a courtyard near the entrance to the Tower, Garrus heard someone timidly call his name.

“Are- are you Officer Vakarian, sir?” He looked up to see a young Turian woman in C-Sec armor looking down at him.

“I’m off-duty,” he replied casually. “You can call me Garrus.”

“Oh! Then, Garrus… sir!” She seemed incredibly nervous. His visor told him that her breathing was unsteady and her heart was pounding, but he could hear it in all the levels of her voice, too.

Trying to appear as non-threatening as he could, he asked, “What can I do for you, officer?”

“Um, I was just wondering, but… is it true that you fought with Commander Shepard in the Battle of the Citadel?”

This wasn’t the first time that something like this had happened, but it was the first time that a fellow C-Sec officer had approached him this way. He looked at her armor again and noticed that it was brand new.

“It’s true,” he confirmed, trying not to laugh. Younger members of C-Sec were cute. Their bright-eyed enthusiasm and the way they tried so desperately not to step on more experienced officers’ feet. They treated everyone as though they were talking to Executor Pallin himself, and took their jobs very seriously. This girl had probably left the military quite recently, too. Her posture was good, although she fidgeted too much. She must have gotten hell for that in her training, unless it was just the nerves.

“I was your junior by a couple years in school and, um, in the military, too. I always looked up to you, so… um…”

The girl’s neck was growing steadily brighter in Garrus’ visor. He discreetly turned the heat sensor off.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, trying to be as kind as possible. He’d had a similar experience with Nihlus Kryik in his early days at C-Sec, after all.

“It’s n- it’s nice to meet you, too! It’s my third week at C-Sec, sir, and I was wondering if you had some… advice for me, sir!”

Garrus exhaled in cynical amusement. A detective who got demoted for walking off the job, and who always had his superiors riding him for not following the rules closely enough? What could he possibly tell her?

“I’m not as great as you think I am, really. But if there’s anything I can say confidently, it’s that you should trust your gut.” He vaguely wondered if this was the kind of advice he should be giving an impressionable young officer, but it was the truth. His truth, anyway. Regardless of whether it made him a bad Turian, he never regretted disobeying or challenging a bad order. “Sometimes your superior officers are wrong.”

“Thank you, sir!” She quickly put her right hand, balled into a fist, to her chest in a salute, and hurried away.

He’d given the young officer some very _Garrus Vakarian_ advice, despite his current efforts at emulating Commander Shepard. He pondered the girl’s enthusiasm, despite how un-Turian the advice had been. Perhaps it was just a result of hero-worship? It would be interesting to see where she ended up, especially with a role model like himself.

Even if Butler had been investigating elsewhere, he was sure to return to the Presidium before heading home, so Garrus figured that he might as well meet Butler at C-Sec HQ. When he arrived, he caught Butler as he was exiting.

“Garrus! Not even my wife picks me up from work. I’m honored.” Butler laughed good-naturedly, as always, as Garrus shot him a wry look.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“What are you doing on the Presidium on your day off?”

“Where else would I go on my day off?” Butler shrugged his shoulders in response, grinning. Before Butler could tease him for not having a life, he continued, “I met a kid that said she looked up to me today.”

“A child?”

“No, another C-Sec officer. Turian, but I didn’t get her name.”

“Uh-oh. Don’t go cheating on Commander Shepard, now.”

Garrus chuckled and shook his head, but quietly celebrated that Butler wasn’t also wearing the latest model of the Kuwashii visor, which would have blatantly revealed the spike in Garrus’ heart rate at the mention of the commander’s name. “You just can’t give me a break, can you?”

“I’ve done you and your mess of a loose-cannon cop routine enough favors over the years to earn a little teasing.”

“Fair enough.”

They approached Butler’s vehicle and both got in, and Butler set the automated course to take them to his apartment.

“But anyway, look at you!” he continued, grinning at Garrus. “You got an admirer and you’re not even a Spectre yet!”

“Yet? Why do you think I want to become a Spectre?”

“Oh, come on. The way you looked at Commander Shepard yesterday? I’m not gonna pretend to know all about Turian facial expressions, but teasing aside, I don’t think anyone in the galaxy admires anyone else as much as you admire her. Plus, I remember you falling out with your dad over it way back when.”

“Oh… yeah. But don’t you think that girl’s choice in role models is a little… _off_? I’m not a Spectre or anything. Hell, I’m not even a good cop.”

“I think you’d make just as good of a leader as that commander of yours.”

Garrus scoffed, thinking that Butler was taking his teasing a little too far, now.

“I’m serious,” Butler said. “You’re passionate about doing good, even if I don’t always agree with your methods. To be honest, if you were a captain here I would follow you without thinking twice.”

“Are you serious? _Me?_ ”

“You. Garrus Vakarian. I’m not trying to get too mushy, but you need to believe in yourself.”

Garrus fell silent. It wasn’t as though he’d never considered leadership positions. But he felt as though he hadn’t proven himself worthy of leading others, even after all he’d learned from Shepard. He appreciated Butler’s words, but wasn’t sure how much he believed them. He looked out the window as they approached Kithoi Ward, Butler’s home. It and Tayseri Ward were in general more high-class than Zakera, though, while Tayseri was known for art and culture, Kithoi was more famous for its unique fashion and extensive shopping districts. Kithoi also had very nice apartments, and after many years dedicated to C-Sec, Butler had saved up enough money to afford one. Between the relief efforts and the Keepers, Kithoi looked as good as new, at least based on what Garrus saw from the car.

While Garrus observed his surroundings and contemplated the conversation, he noticed that Butler was glancing at him, as though he wanted to say something.

“Something bothering you?” Garrus finally prompted.

“I was just wondering how it ended up going with your Spectre last night after I headed home. Didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it to an old man like me, though.”

“Spirits, stop acting like you set me up on a date, Butler. For the last time, it’s not like that between me and the Commander.”

“Alright, take it easy, man. But are you sure there’s nothing between you?”

“Positive.”

“Hm… Call me a romantic, but think about it—you go on an adventure with a powerful, beautiful woman who you admire, who trained you to be a better soldier than you were before and honed your leadership skills, and who you developed a friendship with. Now, you’ve parted ways, but you’re both still on the other’s mind, and gradually your friendship blossoms into something more.”

“You’re a romantic, Butler. Color me surprised,” Garrus said flatly. Still, his neck was warm under his collar. The first half of what Butler said was accurate, and Garrus had to admit that lately Shepard was occupying a decent chunk of his daily thought processing—but that wasn’t because he was interested in her. (But… was he?) It was mostly because everything around him reminded him of how she fought to protect the Citadel and the galaxy, but they repaid her by treating her like she was insane. Either that, or it was because the times when he struggled to do his job thoroughly, follow rules, and give people a chance reminded him that Shepard would be proud that he was sticking to his promise and being the best officer he could be.

But he’d be lying if he said that Butler’s portrayal of their relationship growing into something more sounded unappealing. He didn’t have any particular attraction to humans, but the way Shepard carried herself, the way she always used her words before her gun and tried to find the best and most just solution for the people involved, and the way that she _looked_ at people. Garrus knew that he wasn’t the only one who felt that when Shepard looked at you she was truly seeing you, seeing through all of the pretenses and barriers, and was looking right at who you were as a person. Like she was seeing your very soul. She had few prejudices and always asked about whatever assumptions she had, rather than judging people by them, and she always gave people a chance to defend their actions and views, or change their ways. He didn’t know a lot about human beauty standards, but Shepard was a beautiful person.

Plus, on a more superficial note, who wouldn’t want to date the hero of the Citadel?

He realized now that, while Butler’s joke had made him think about Shepard in a romantic light for the first time (at least, consciously), it would likely not be the last time. That wasn’t ideal.

Yet, unable to stop himself from getting carried away, he found himself snorting at the idea of the Commander as someone’s girlfriend. He could barely imagine her _flirting_. He tried to picture her adopting the subtle movements, the giggling and playing with the hair, the coy caresses that he’d seen human women use around the Citadel and in vids when on dates. He came up blank. It didn’t suit her at all. Shepard’s flirting was probably more like a Krogan charging… or some kind of demolition vehicle. _You. Me. Dinner._ Garrus stifled his laughter, but Butler was already looking at him expectantly.

 “What’s so funny? Imagining yourself getting all lovey-dovey with your commander?”

Now Garrus laughed openly. “Did you hear what you just said? ‘Lovey-dovey’? With _Commander Shepard_? Try to imagine that for me, Butler.”

Butler chuckled too, now, and concluded, “Yeah, you’re right. I can’t even imagine her flirting with someone.”

Exactly.

Garrus relaxed again, and spent the rest of the ride amusing himself by trying to picture Shepard flirting with some faceless human man. But even though he’d successfully made the image of Shepard in a romantic situation a source of humor (as rude as that was), he couldn’t deny that he greatly admired her. He would love to fight with her again someday, and, flirting and dates aside, would enjoy spending time with her one-on-one. But none of that directly pointed to romantic feelings on his part. He made a conscious decision to leave the train of thought there, but before he let it go he had one last stray thought: _It wouldn’t be terrible to find a Turian girl like her, though._

When they got to the Butler residence, Butler’s wife Nalah greeted them from the kitchen. The Butlers’ two-bedroom apartment was bright and homey, though it didn’t feel like _Garrus’_ home. He’d always thought that perhaps this was what homes on Earth must feel like. Although most Citadel apartments had either harsh bright white overhead lights or dimmer light strips of various colors on the floors and walls, the Butlers’ place had a warm yellow glow to it. They had many standing lamps and wooden furniture the likes of which Garrus hadn’t seen before visiting them in this apartment for the first time, and when he’d asked they’d informed him that all of their furniture and lighting was imported from Earth. The apartment had two bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and two bathrooms—a gigantic apartment, especially on the Citadel. The second bedroom formerly belonged to their daughter, Ema, but she had left to join the Alliance around the same time Garrus had left C-Sec. Pictures of her growing up framed the living room, along with some Asari and human art pieces and other miscellaneous family pictures. The smell of something delicious drifted towards them.

“Oh, hi Garrus,” Nalah welcomed him cheerfully from the kitchen, which was visible from the front door. “Did you go out of your way to pick him up? Well, thank you! I’m a little too busy for that.”

Garrus laughed. “Been a while, Nalah. How are you?”

“Oh, same as ever. I hear you’ve been busy, though. You’re some big hero, right?”

“Hardly. Commander Shepard is the real hero, she did it all.”

“There you go being modest. Go have a seat and I’ll join you in a second,” she said, gesturing to the dining room. “David, finish up in here for me so that I can catch up with Garrus.”

Butler nodded, and meandered to their bedroom, which was on the other side of the kitchen, clipping off his armor piece by piece as he walked. At the same time, Nalah put down the cloth that she’d been holding and followed Garrus to the dining room with a huge smile on her face. Nalah was physically quite different from her husband. Although they both had brown skin, hers was much lighter than his. Her hair was straight and long—she often kept it plaited, making Garrus wonder if it didn’t hurt her neck to have so much—and Butler’s was short and tightly coiled. Butler was quite tall for a human, but Nalah always struck Garrus as shorter than the average human. She dressed in well-pressed lightly colored suits or fashionable-yet-comfortable clothes, but Butler’s wardrobe was always dark and, excluding his C-Sec armor, fairly loose. And while they both had black hair, Nalah’s was laced with silver, and Butlers was sprinkled with gray. Their daughter’s hair in the photos in the house framed her face with black ringlets, an apparent mixture of her parents, and her skin tone was clearly a darker brown than her mother’s, but lighter than her fathers. And yet, despite all of these differences in the one family, they had very similar personalities. All three were trained in combat. Nalah’s appearance fooled people easily, but she had started out Alliance, moved to C-Sec, and eventually moved on to diplomatic work on the Presidium. She and her husband had met in C-Sec. The three of them admired their home planet of Earth, and all three had an interest in contributing to society and working to bring justice in their own small way. That was, of course, part of the reason Garrus enjoyed their company.

They sat down at the dining table, and Nalah took stock of Garrus.

“You look good, Garrus. You always stood tall, but you seem more confident now.”

“That must be Commander Shepard’s influence.”

“David told me you talk about her all the time, but that was quicker than I thought,” Nalah said, smiling slyly. That was another trait the Butlers shared: they all loved teasing Garrus.

“Alright, alright, I think I’ve had enough from Butler already.”

Nalah laughed gently.

“So, how’s Ema?” Garrus invited.

“Ah, don’t get me started on that,” she said almost dismissively. “You know I was against her joining the Alliance.”

“Is it alright for you to be so… nonchalant about it? You know how dangerous it is.”

“Exactly, Garrus! We raised her on the Citadel and took her to Earth and the colonies so that she would know that she had access to all of this! When I joined the Alliance, it was the only way to see space, but now look at us! We live in space! I don’t understand why she thinks she has to join the Alliance to travel.”

“It still costs money, even if it’s easier to explore now. Maybe she didn’t want to have to rely on you two.”

Nalah sighed, shaking her head. “I know, but I still didn’t want her to have to be a soldier. But anyway, she’s basically just security on Horizon right now, so I’m not too worried. I’m just frustrated at how stubborn she’s being about the whole thing. I understand that she wants to go out and see things and maybe learn to defend herself, but I wanted her to get an education and spend some time on Earth first. There are so many kinds of people out here, it’s easy to forget who you are and where you came from.”

“But Ema loves Earth just as much as you two do. I’m sure she’ll go back, in time.”

Nalah sighed again, looking wistfully at her hands, clasped on the table. “I’ve had this conversation so many times with her and David, Garrus. I guess it’s just hard to let go.”

Garrus’ mandibles fluttered helplessly as he tried to think of a response, but nothing came. He wondered how his own mother was doing, back on Palaven. He ought to call Solana and check in. It had been a while since they’d spoken.

“I hope you’re hungry!” Butler cheerfully entered the room with cloth mitts protecting his hands from the hot pans that he was carrying. “Honey, the salads!”

“Ah, is there anything I can help with?” Garrus asked, remembering his manners.

“No, you just relax, Garrus,” Nalah said to him, putting her bright smile back on. “You’re the guest of honor! Relax, let us take care of you a little!”

Thinking about it, Garrus realized that Nalah had been something of a motherly figure to him during his time on the Citadel. He should try to spend more time with her, too.

Butler rested the pots on wooden blocks in the middle of the table, and took a seat next to Garrus.

“So, about that case,” Butler began, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “There’s been some increased red sand use in the Wards. We think someone’s using the post-Geth vulnerability of the Citadel to up their smuggling before security gets tighter than before—which it will soon enough. And we think it’s time we caught them.”

Garrus felt his heart rate increase. His first case since investigating Saren, and his ticket to becoming a detective again. He remembered how the Kishpaugh case had gone, and his father’s interference, and felt a bitter mix of anger and shame gather in his throat and chest. It hadn’t been his best performance as a detective, but he couldn’t forgive his father for letting a drug smuggler go just to prove a point. How many more addicts had been unable to will themselves to seek help because finding red sand was easier than trying to break the addiction? It wasn’t supposed to be easy to find on the Citadel, and that was what Garrus had been trying to stop. He never forgave his father for not seeing his perspective, and consequently he hadn’t even tried to contact Castis since his return to the Citadel. He would try to follow the rules and do things patiently and thoroughly this time—definitely more so than in his work on the Kishpaugh case—but not for his father. He’d do it for his own merit, and for Shepard.

Butler told him the details as Nalah returned with two bowls of vegetables, one small with greens familiar to Garrus, and one larger one with food he recognized from dining with the Butlers on previous occasions. Each serving spoon had a marker to indicate which dish was levo-friendly and which was dextro, and they usually donated leftovers to a dextro-oriented shelter. Having so many friends and acquaintances in C-Sec and around the Citadel had made the couple accustomed to entertaining all kinds of guests.

Garrus helped himself while listening to Butler’s explanation of the situation. The meal was what Nalah referred to as Palaven Pasta, a dextro version of a popular human dish, which she and Butler had perfected over the years. It had taken some getting used to, but with time it had become one of Garrus’ favorite, and so the Butlers tended to have it ready for him when he visited. As for the case, it turned out to be quite similar to Garrus’ case with Kishpaugh, but on a bigger scale. Kishpaugh’s operations had been limited to Zakera Ward, but the red sand users had increased throughout the Wards, and exhibited extreme reactions similar to those that had been found in Garrus’ previous investigation. The users enjoyed very powerful biotics for a longer period of time than normal red sand, but the side effects were more prominent, and included loss of teeth and hair, and earlier signs of withdrawal. In short, the strain was more potent, and probably connected to the Kishpaugh cases.

But this time the red sand was more potent _and_ more widespread. As though Garrus needed any more reason to pour his entire being into this case.

The investigation had already been going on for a few weeks, and Butler’s team had evidently apprehended a dealer or two, but none of them would say where they got their supply from. But with such broad operations, _someone_ would be willing to talk. It was just a matter of who. Garrus pointed out that, unless they were distributing their supply immediately after getting it, or making it on the Citadel, they had to have at least one warehouse storing it. The most likely option was that they had a storage place on each Ward. Of course, it would take a lot of digging and observation to find what they were looking for, but fortunately Garrus figured he could probably convince a duct rat or two to give him some information, especially given that they were probably helping with transportation of the drugs for some pocket change or a hot meal.

He told Butler that he would inform Captain Naventina of the situation before reaching into his old contacts to see if he could get some of the younger kids to give them some information on the record and, if necessary, testify when the time came. Butler agreed, but Garrus observed signs of uneasiness in him. He twirled his fork in his food for too long and rubbed his chin in what Garrus had come to recognize as a human sign of careful consideration.

“Are you worried that I’ll screw this up?” Garrus asked candidly.

“I know that I chose to give you this chance without you asking, but I remember how you used to do things, Garrus.”

“I’m going to do this right, Butler. That’s a promise.”

“Garrus, when things get hard, you won’t be able to hold yourself to someone else’s principles. Remember that.”

“Understood.”

Butler’s warning was certainly worth considering. He had been struggling with C-Sec for what had felt like an eternity, and finally he was getting a chance to start investigating again. If someone with important information refused to talk, or he couldn’t get enough evidence to support his hunches, or corrupt officers stopped him from getting his job done, what would he do? In a time-sensitive situation, would he be able to wait for permits and clearance, or would he just do what felt needed to be done?

“I won’t let you down,” he added, hoping to convince his friend and himself of his sincerity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of action this week but I hope you liked the dialogue!  
> Look forward to *developments* next week.


	3. Chapter 3

Garrus worked on Butler’s drug case steadily over the next two or three weeks, focusing on Zakera Ward. It was a hard investigation, not because of a lack of leads or even his restraint in his investigation methods, but because of the person-to-person aspects of the investigation. Users, who, teeth cracked and yellow, begged for more of the product regardless of Garrus’ obvious C-Sec attire. Tiny duct rats, skin peeling from exposure, that would give up information in return for food and shelter, even knowing that if they were found out by whatever group was peddling the drug, they would be killed. Small scale dealers that gave most of the money they made dealing to their suppliers. They would always act tough and refuse to talk when apprehended, even though Garrus could see the sweat on their skin, the quick way their eyes darted around, could track their heartbeat with his visor, which remained elevated long after the foot chase had ended. Garrus allowed himself a certain level of intimidation with these young criminals. It didn’t take much to convince most of them that they were in over their heads, and any that stubbornly refused to accept the truth were gently reminded that the people they worked for wouldn’t care if they got their asses beat in prison. That sometimes loosened a few tongues.

After what felt like an eternity of investigation, interrogating, and infiltrating, Garrus had the information that he needed to pinpoint a location in Zakera that the peddlers were most likely using to store the drugs. It was a warehouse that was supposed to belong to the eezo-refining company Altai Mineral Works. Shipments into the Citadel were inspected, but if smugglers could get the red sand to show up as refined eezo on the Citadel Customs scanners (maybe not as hard as it sounded since red sand was made from eezo) there would be no objections to the delivery to Altai. But most eezo shipments were manually inspected for that very reason. He needed more information, but at least he had _something_ , for now.

Garrus brought this information to Butler as soon as he got it, which was luckily while Butler was still in the office.

“You have your paper trail, right?” Butler asked frantically upon hearing Garrus’ news, standing up from behind his desk in the Investigation Department of C-Sec HQ.

“Everything’s documented, recorded, time-stamped, approved. This is airtight, Butler.”

“Good!” Butler said proudly, laughing in relief. “Good. I’m glad to see I made the right choice adding you to this case.”

“Thank you, Butler. But I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure about this lead. Even if the shipments were registered to Altai as refined eezo, aren’t all of the eezo shipments to the Citadel triple checked?”

“They usually are, but Altai pays special fees on top of their import taxes to stop their stuff from being tampered with. They say that incorrect handling can lead to contamination, so they handle their own inspections internally.”

“Hm. So the question now is whether they know what’s going on in their Zakera warehouse.”

“Oh, they know,” Butler said simply. “They use special permits, and every shipment has to be accompanied by certain documents that have been approved by the right people. They can’t just pay their way out of inspections—they’re saddled with red tape.”

“Meaning the smugglers have people inside Altai and are probably paying off some people in C-Sec to turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

Garrus snorted bitterly. “Nothing changes.”

“Easy, Garrus,” Butler said in a warning tone. “Remember, you promised me you’d do this the right way.”

“Of course, Butler.”

“Alright. So the real question is ‘how far up does this go?’, but I need you to leave that to me and Headquarters. I need you to talk to your captain and get the proper permits to start investigating that warehouse.”

“Affirmative.”

Garrus headed straight back to the Upper Zakera C-Sec office to talk to Captain Naventina. Naventina, Garrus’ long-time manager, had always thought that Garrus was too high-strung. They had clashed many times in the past, especially over the Kishpaugh case, but Garrus was now determined to remain on good terms with his captain. That proved difficult, as he’d already made a strong negative impression, but he nonetheless he been making his best efforts to show the captain respect and communicated with him as much as possible, in direct contrast to his pre-Shepard behavior.

When he got to the C-Sec Department, Garrus knocked on the captain’s office door.

“Yes?” came the curt response from a speaker beside the door.

“Captain, It’s Officer Vakarian—”

“Right. Come in.”

Garrus opened the door, and took one step forward as it closed behind him. The captain was sitting at his desk, behind numerous screens and stacks of data pads, but he stood up when Garrus entered.

“Vakarian. Detective Butler called. Said you’d be over. Altai Mineral Works? You’d better have some good evidence to back that up.” Naventina spoke in short quick bursts, giving the impression that he was always busy and never had time for chatter, both probably true.

“I do, sir,” Garrus said without wasting any time. “I have enough information from interrogations of dealers and related criminals we’ve apprehended, plus tips from bystanders and duct rats. Before we can make any moves, though, we need more information. I’d like to do a thorough investigation of the place.”

“Damn right, you would. Plan?”

“Well, firstly, I’d like to check the surveillance vids of the area, in case what I’m looking for has already been recorded. Here,” Garrus continued pointedly, seeing the protest on the captain’s tongue, while handing some datapads over, “are the permit requests for that. I’ve also included the file of my reports on the case so far, as well as my official request for permission to survey and infiltrate the warehouse. I know these things take time, so I wanted to let you look over the details of the case and give you the time to decide whether you think action is appropriate.”

Garrus was fully aware that Captain Naventina had been watching him closely and knew the details of the case already, but attitude was important here. Everyone was expecting Garrus to slip back into his old ways, and he was determined to prove that he was dedicated to doing things right, no matter how long it took. Especially now, at such a critical point in the case.

“Hm,” Naventina grunted. “You’ve changed, Vakarian. I’ll give you that. I’ll look over these documents. And I’ll have the surveillance tapes released for you. Check tomorrow morning.”

Surprisingly accommodating. But before Garrus could relay his gratitude, Naventina continued.

“But I’m watching you. Frankly, I have no idea why you’re on this case. What’re you gonna do if it’s Kishpaugh again? Not my problem, though. I’ll pull you off as soon as you step out of line. Dismissed.”

And there was the charm that Garrus has fallen in love with. He mumbled a quiet “Thank you, sir,” before seeing himself out. His shift was already over for the day and he was preparing to leave, but another officer approached him on his way out with news that Castis Vakarian wanted to speak to him. _Excellent_. It was as though the spirits thought he needed even more stress in his life. Truthfully, he’d been planning to talk to his father anyway, but there was an important distinction between going to have a chat and being summoned. What could his father have to chew him out about now? He pondered it with a grimace as he headed to the Lower Zakera C-Sec departments.

The Wards and their C-Sec offices were split into Upper and Lower. The Upper Wards connected to the Presidium through the C-Sec departments, which also housed the Academies, and scanning and processing for people directly entering the Citadel through the Wards, or traveling to the Presidium without certain levels of clearance. The Lower Departments of C-Sec in the Lower Wards had more officers and detectives, because the further one got from the Presidium, the higher crime rates became. There were also Security Boxes, small offices manned by three or four officers, throughout the Wards.

When Garrus reached the Lower Zakera C-Sec Department, he headed straight for the investigation office. A few detectives greeted him as he walked towards his father’s office, in the back of the room. The door was open, so he stepped in, carefully approaching his father’s desk.

“Dad,” he said quietly. His father glanced up from a datapad.

“Ah, Garrus. You came faster than I expected.”

“I’d just finished my shift when I heard you wanted to see me. What is it?” His tone came out sharper than he’d meant it to be.

“Ah, right. Would you care to get something to eat? I’m about to finish up here and then we can head out. I’ll treat you to something from the café downstairs.”

He wanted to buy Garrus dinner? What was his aim here? The last time they had spoken was immediately before Garrus had left with Shepard. It had been a heated conversation, to say the least, and Garrus hadn’t gotten the impression that bygones would be bygones. He could feel the anger, frustration, and urge to rebel that always appeared during meetings with his father building up in his chest as he recalled their last argument. He inadvertently began to scowl down at Castis, who—according to the stats flitting across Garrus’ visor, and plain eyesight—was perfectly calm. He typed something into his omni-tool before looking up at Garrus.

“Just let me clock out and we can go.”

They ate at Zakera Café, a shop with an energetic chef that was always boasting the “best food on the whole damn Citadel”. Indeed, it was a place for expensive tastes. Garrus wryly rejoiced to himself that his father had offered up front to pay.

They sat at a table by the window, from which the surrounding plaza could be seen. The waiter greeted them with a somewhat stiff, “Hello, Castis,” and brought them menus, but before he could put them down Castis completed ordering for the both of them. The waiter nodded and went into the back of the restaurant. Castis turned to his son.

“I’ll spare you the small talk, Garrus. I knew when you came back, and I’ve been keeping tabs on you. I like what I’m seeing so far.”

His father’s tone was matter-of-fact, or even slightly approving, but Garrus already felt irritation burning inside his gut, bubbling up his throat.

“I’m not doing this for your approval,” he retorted. He couldn’t stop himself. Even with everything he’d learned, back in front of his father he was just a kid again, trying to get out from under Castis’ crushing expectations.

“No, I suppose not,” his father muttered pensively. He kept his composure. “So, tell me, why _are_ you doing this?”

Garrus was silent. He knew that his father had already cast judgment on Shepard for being a Spectre, and he wasn’t going to offer anything for his father to scrutinize or criticize.

“I want you to talk to me, Garrus. You know I’ve only done what I thought was best for you.”

“Yeah? Is that why you let Kishpaugh walk even though we all know he was guilty?”

“I let Kishpaugh go because I needed you to learn that you can’t just do whatever you want in life. Rules are in place for a reason, and it worries me that you’re still upset about that, considering the details of your current case.”

“Are you serious, dad? I’m still upset about that because we could have stopped him from hurting people! The people we’re supposed to be protecting! If we had put him away back then, we might not be dealing with a Citadel-wide increase in an extremely potent strain of red sand right now!”

“Then I trust you’ll do your job the right way this time, Garrus,” Castis said sharply.

“I will, but not for you,” Garrus said bitterly. “You’ll always find something wrong with how I live my life.”

Castis sighed. “I’m not trying to antagonize you. I haven’t seen or heard from you in months, other than news vids where you’re standing behind that _Spectre_ —”

“And there it is. You’ve already made up your mind about Shepard without meeting her, or even hearing what I have to say about her. I know her. I’ve fought under her command. If you really had _any_ intention of listening to me, you would have asked me about her, but you’ve never even tried. What did you even call me here for?!”

Castis looked at him quietly. His body temperature had dropped slightly. He drew slow, determined breaths.

Garrus looked away, towards the ground, but heard his father sigh. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy you’re back, and doing things the right way,” Castis said weakly.

Garrus clenched his fist now. He clamped his mandibles to his face and kept staring at the ground. All of the frustration he’d felt over doing every little step, jumping through every hoop and meticulously dealing with all of the red tape—the irritation that came with knowing that nothing would get done if his superiors decided it wasn’t worth it, or simply disliked him enough—all of it was overflowing now. The fact was that his father had told him to do things this way, and in the end, even if it was due to Shepard’s influence, he was following the path his father had laid out for him. And that infuriated him. He didn’t hate his father, but he harbored a lot of resentment. He’d never forgiven Castis for leaving them on Palaven in his youth, forcing his lifestyle and ideas on Garrus by making him focus on combat training rather than studying, and eventually interfering in his investigations. At the end of the day, he had done as his father wanted, and felt he’d earned the right to walk the path he had been given in whatever manner he chose. He hadn’t wanted Castis’ approval before, and he certainly didn’t want it now.

“You’re happy that I’m doing things _your_ way,” Garrus finally muttered. “That’s all you ever wanted from me, right? Total control of how I do everything. Just that.”

“I left you to your devices after the Kishpaugh incident because I thought that you were an adult who could figure things out on his own. But what you just said proves that you’re as childish as ever.”

“Oh please, dad! I’m only in C-Sec to begin with because it’s what _you_ wanted! You were always pushing me towards this, and you couldn’t deal with the fact that I didn’t do it your way!”

“I didn’t force you to come to C-Sec, Garrus. You always had a choice.”

“Is that why you never supported me in my studies? Is that why you started my combat training when I was a kid who barely knew what guns were for? Even when I was the best in my military unit you always had _something_ to say. You always acted like I should be better at combat and you couldn’t understand why I wasn’t, when the fact is that you refused to see that I never wanted any of this! I wanted to study, dad! History and culture! There are so many different species and planets in the galaxy, and I wanted to learn about them!”

“But you love fighting now, don’t you? Especially considering the _crude_ methods you employ in your investigations. Or your decision to go off with that _Spectre_.” He spat the last word and it burned Garrus, agitating his temper even more.

“Yeah, I love to fight. But not because of _you_. Fighting can help me bring justice to those who deserve it. I can bring judgment and closure where otherwise there would be none. My gun can do what the law can’t.”

“This is exactly what I didn’t want to hear. I thought you had changed.”

Garrus stopped now, realizing that regardless of his father’s opinion, Shepard probably would have put him in his place for saying what he’d just said.

“I wanted to do what was best for you, Garrus,” Castis said after a pause. “C-Sec was a path of security. You wouldn’t have to worry about your next meal with a job like this, and you’d be doing your public service duties. I’m sorry, Garrus. I didn’t know you were that against it.”

“I tried to tell you, dad. I bargained and pleaded and begged and cried and you wouldn’t listen. You made me feel like I was weak. Now you say you want me to talk to you, but I’m done talking to you. I don’t need this anymore. I made my path with the tools you gave me, and I’m going to continue doing things for _me_. And I know you think all Spectres are terrible, but I’m planning to reapply to be considered to become one. I think I could make a much bigger difference as a Spectre than as a _C-Sec officer_. Now, as you know, I’m working a case. Is that all you needed?”

Garrus was slightly surprised by the bitterness of his own words, and he knew that his subvocals gave away the pain he felt at saying such hurtful things to his father, who, despite everything, he truly did care about. He felt his father’s stare, but looked determinedly at the plates on the table, which had been brought out some time during their argument.

“At… at least eat something before you go,” Castis said feebly.

Garrus sighed. He signaled to the waiter, who shuffled over awkwardly and eagerly swiped Garrus’ plate off the table upon receiving the request for to-go packaging.

Garrus and Castis sat in silence. Bitterness overwhelmed Garrus, as he considered whether he really wanted to end things on this note. The waiter was quick, however, and before he knew it Garrus was standing up with his food in his hand, looking down at his father.

“Garrus, ah…” Castis said quietly, looking sadly up at his son. “Let me know how the case goes.”

“…Sure, dad.”

 

When he got home, Garrus was still frustrated from his argument, so he brought up his omni-tool and began writing a message to Shepard.

                                 Commander,

                                           Just wanted to let you know that I think I found the warehouse my drug smugglers are using.

                                 If my manager gives me the go-ahead, I’ll probably be a detective again within a week. When will you

                                 be back on this side? Can’t wait to see you back on the Citadel.

—Wait. Was that appropriate? Didn’t it sound like he was a little _too_ excited to see her? This felt awkward all of a sudden. He erased the last sentence.

                                 Let’s get drinks next time you’re here.

                                                                                                                                                 —Garrus

After that was taken care of, he let Butler know the state of his investigation. Butler’s response came quickly and was short: _Congrats. Keep it up._ Putting away the food he’d brought home to eat later, Garrus hesitantly accessed his computer, and, seeing that she was online, called his sister Solana.

She picked up almost immediately.

“Hey,” she said, sounding weary already. “I just got off the phone with dad. Heard you got into another fight?”

“That was quick,” Garrus responded meagerly.

“You always used to be upset with him for never being around but he keeps in touch way better than you do.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared slightly in an involuntary expression of dejection.

“How’s mom?” He asked, changing he subject.

“She’s fine. She misses you. She thinks you should call more, too.”

Garrus sighed, and said, “I know. I’ll try.”

Solana paused, and a look that Garrus recognized flashed in her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, “You know, for all the shit you give dad, you sure do act like him.” Garrus couldn’t analyze her state with his visor, but he could hear the dangerously high pitch of her voice. She hated arguing with her family, and it used to make her cry when she was younger. Her current tone was usually a precursor to that.

“I’ll be a detective again soon,” he tried weakly. He really didn’t have the energy for another family fight today.

“Sure, Garrus. Of course.” Her voice trembled. “But you know what? I’ll, um… I’ll catch you later. I was just headed to bed, you know it’s late here.”

“Right, Sol. I’ll call you again later.”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

The call ended.

Garrus slowly clicked off each piece of armor, and contemplated while he polished them. He and Sol used to be so close. And frankly, he used to look up to his father. Things had probably started to change when he’d realized somewhere along the line that looking up to his father wasn’t the same thing as wanting to _become_ his father, and that his own desires didn’t align with the path his father had put him on.

Beaten by the events of the day, Garrus pulled his sleepwear on and headed to bed. Perhaps tomorrow would go a little bit more smoothly. He checked his omni-tool one last time to see that he had a message from Shepard. Her response had come much faster than he’d anticipated.

                                 Garrus,

                                           Congrats. I hope you find your bad guys. “Officer Vakarian” just doesn’t have the

                                           same ring as “Detective Vakarian”. “Inspector Vakarian”? Yeah. _Inspector Vakarian_.

                                           I’ve cleaned up enough Geth to last a lifetime out here. Still got a couple more bases

                                           to clear out. Headed to the Amada System. The Council won’t stop until there are any Geth left,

                                           apparently. I should be back on the Citadel in a week or so. When I get back I’ll teach you

                                           how to drink properly while we celebrate your promotion.

                                                                                                                                                      —Shepard

Garrus shut his omni-tool off, chuckling to himself. At least there was always one person who he had a simple relationship with. If nothing else, he always knew that the commander would have his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this and the next couple chapters a lot, and I'm excited about posting them.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after his confrontation with his father, Garrus got to work early. Family drama aside, he had just asked a lot of Captain Naventina, and he didn’t want the captain to think he was slacking. Garrus had enough working against him to begin with, and he wouldn’t have the captain judge him to be anything but dedicated to getting his permits and going through the proper channels to work the case. To his surprise, however, the bundle of datapads that he’d given the captain the previous day stood stacked on his desk. He shuffled through them and noted an addition at the bottom of each: APPROVED. That was the fastest that anything he wanted to do had been approved at C-Sec. He glanced at the computer on his desk to see that he had a new message in his work terminal from Naventina. It read:

                                                       Your father called. Asked me to support you in your case.

                                      Must be a big case. Or maybe you got better than I gave you credit for.

                                      Either way, come see me ASAP. We’ll discuss your surveillance of Altai, etc.

                                                                                                                                Naventina

His father? The conversation they’d had was hardly a reason for Castis to fast track Garrus’ investigation. Had his father perhaps been convinced that, regardless of his reasons, Garrus was serious about doing better? Or maybe this was just a test, and Castis expected Garrus to grab this opportunity and immediately return to his old ways. Either way, Garrus certainly hadn’t expected anything like this from his father. After destroying the Kishpaugh case, who would have guessed that he would now be supporting Garrus’ investigation?

Garrus made his way to the captain’s office. The door hissed open, and Garrus cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“Ah, Vakarian. You’re early. Good. Got the tapes from the past few weeks. I’ve been going over ‘em, definitely some suspicious activity. Deliveries in unmarked shuttles at least once a day. But there’s gotta be something else. An unmonitored alley behind the warehouse… Underground tunnels… Gotta be something. I’ll send a couple of our men to check for back doors. But if it’s a basement passage, we’re gonna have to get you inside, Vakarian. Subterfuge or force, but we’ll have to get you in. Up for it?”

“Absolutely, sir.” Garrus couldn’t completely suppress the excitement in his voice. His work, including all the time he’d had to waste to prove he was serious, was finally about to pay off.

“If this raid goes well, Vakarian—if they’re really smuggling red sand in there—I’ll ask the Executor to promote you myself. You’ll have earned it.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“Right. Now get to the briefing.”

 

The briefing that morning was Garrus’ first since returning to C-Sec, since it was usually closed to all but detectives, the captain, and officers with relevant information to cases being discussed. Although he had casually greeted his former colleagues upon his return, it felt like it was his first time really interacting with them again. They discussed the case seriously, but treated Garrus as an equal, which gave him some extra confidence where he had been slightly insecure before. During the meeting, the detectives and Garrus decided that if it did turn out that the Altai warehouse had a basement passage which they used to distribute the drugs undetected, the best plan would be to infiltrate the building, learn its layout and find the drugs, as well as to locate all escape routes and find the corresponding exits in the Ward, and detain the person running the facility. Captain Naventina announced that he’d already asked some patrol officers from a nearby Security Box to scout the area, and that they could proceed with the infiltration once they had the information they needed.

Garrus was paired with detective Jen Morales now that his part in the case had been recognized. Jen was a friend of his, with whom he’d worked on cases in the past—a human born and raised on the Citadel, who knew Zakera Ward like only a native could. An excellent partner for this case.

 “So, you’re not gonna disappear in the middle of this, are ya?” Jen immediately said to Garrus after the briefing had ended. She was filled to the brim with snark, so cases with her were always a good time.

“Ha-ha. I missed working with you, too, Jen.”

“Don’t think you can just come back to C-Sec and be the star like you used to! I’m the big shot around here now.” She put her hand on her bicep while probably flexing. It was hard to tell through the armor.

Garrus laughed, resting one hand on her head.

“You don’t look like much of a big shot from up here.”

She clicked her tongue at him in agitation, folding her arms across her chest. Then she relaxed, leaning against a table as he removed his hand from her head, and grinned up at him. “Well we’re stuck waiting until we hear from the Security Box guys. Why don’t you catch me up? Aren’t you kind of a big deal now?”

“Jen, _please_. I was always a big deal.”

“Oh! I can’t wait to get back out there with you so I can knock you down a few pegs. Is it possible that you’ve gotten _more_ insufferable? Or has it just been that long since the last time we saw each other?”

“Well, I only saved the Citadel, did battle with a rogue Spectre, stopped another unstoppable Krogan army from invading Citadel space… I’d say I’ve earned a little gloating.”

“Looks like you’re back here with us, though, huh?”

“No place like the Citadel to fight for the Citadel, after all.”

“Hm…” Jen considered this for a moment. Then she continued, “Well, tell me about Shepard! No one cares about _your_ crusty ass. Is she as amazing as they say?”

Garrus snorted. It was as though a fan had shoved him aside, trying to get to the commander. _Figures_ , he thought in amusement. “She’s better than that. She’s a flawless leader, an incredible soldier, and a superb tactician. I was lucky to have been able to work with her.”

“Huh? Wait if you’re saying all that, it _has_ to be true. So why the hell did you come back here?”

“Well, I guess… I had goals that I couldn’t achieve on her ship. She’s the one who encouraged me to come back, even though I wanted to stay. She showed me how my, uh… methods could be improved, and why I should do my best to follow C-Sec’s rules instead of just doing things in my sloppy way. She showed me why it’s not just important that the job is done, but _how_ it’s done. And with that foundation, I’m going to reapply to be considered for Spectre candidacy. After I become a detective again, of course.”

“A Spectre, huh?” Jen chewed on the thought for a bit. Then she grinned up at him. “I say, go for it! Most people only dislike them ‘cause they’re jealous. Plus, seems like you’ve got a great example to follow.”

Garrus shook his head in a fond mix of incredulity and amusement. Things were so simple to Jen.

“Hey, when this is over, what would you say to meeting Commander Shepard?”

“Why would the first human Spectre want to meet some random detective like me?”

“You’d be surprised at how much Shepard takes every little conversation to heart. I think you’d like each other, too. Plus,” he added slyly, “I’ve got _connections_ now.”

Jen snorted. “Showoff.”

They chuckled, as an officer poked his head into the briefing room and let them know that the captain wanted to see them.

 

“No back doors,” Captain Naventina reported as they entered his office.

“I guess it’ll be infiltration then,” Garrus muttered.

“Sir, it might be helpful to find the outlets of the escape passages before we attempt to enter the facility,” Jen added. “If we can surround the place, it’ll allow us to detain everyone that’s in there when they realize what who we are and try to run for it. Maybe if we could convince someone in Altai to give us a blueprint of the place….”

“Jen! Genius!” Captain Naventina exclaimed with jubilation the likes of which Garrus had never seen from him. He suppressed an eyeroll.

“ _Teacher’s pet_ ” he whispered to her, and before the captain could ask him to repeat himself he continued, “Sir, I believe Detective Butler is handling the investigation into Altai Mineral Works. He might be able to get us the information we need.”

“Right. We need a layout of the area, too. I’ll gather the men, and get someone mapping the area. You two, go to the Presidium and talk to Detective Butler.”

“Understood,” Jen and Garrus chorused, and immediately left the captain’s office.

 

Even though at this point they were just going to ask Butler for a favor Garrus couldn’t help but feel excited. It was right between his fingers, now. Soon, he would be working cases again, and it was all thanks to Shepard. She had inspired him to do better, and now he was getting support from unexpected sources.

Like his father.

What was that about? He hadn’t been especially kind to the man, in fact he’d been downright nasty, and yet Castis had put in a good word for him with Captain Naventina. Was he trying to get back in Garrus’ good graces?

As they entered the patrol car and Garrus gave the VI their destination, Jen grinned at him, saying, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” she said emphatically, as though prompting him.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just excited about the case,” he responded in a tone completely lacking excitement. He was still thinking about his father. But before Jen could prod further, he said, “So tell me about you. How’s life on the Citadel been treating you for the past few months?”

“Same old, same old. You know nothing ever changes on the Citadel. Even when a rogue Spectre invades with a Geth army and a gigantic bug-shaped dreadnought.”

“Heh, tell me about it.”

“That’s it? Come on, Garrus, don’t you know when someone is trying to get you to talk?”

“Oh, I know what you’re trying to do. I’m just not convinced you really want to know the truth.”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

“Okay, but remember, Jen. _You asked_.” He paused, looking at her. She stared impatiently. He sighed, then said matter-of-factly, “Saren was trying to bring back an ancient race of sentient starships bent on wiping out all organic life, called the Reapers.”

Jen snorted, coughed, and emitted what seemed to be a mix of laughter and choking.

“And you believe that?” she wheezed.

“I saw it. I spoke to it.” Admittedly Garrus had chosen to explain the Reapers in the most ridiculous way possible, but now he was being completely serious.

“So, what about the Geth, then?”

“They worship the Reapers. Think they’re the pinnacle of synthetic life or some nonsense.”

“Jesus. If that’s true, I guess I can forgive the general public for acting like nothing happened this once.”

“Can you?” Garrus replied sharply.

“I mean, yeah. I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But a race of massive synthetics that are nearly unkillable and want to wipe out organic life? I definitely don’t _want_ to believe you. It’s much easier to just go back to living life.”

“It’s not about what’s easy, it’s about stopping the Reapers!”

“What can we even do? Who wants to live their life in anxiety about an enemy that they’re powerless to stop? You’re here working on this drug case, aren’t you? Unless you think _the Reapers_ are spreading tainted red sand on the Citadel?”

“ _That_ would be an interesting way of trying to wipe us out,” Garrus said, taking a deep breath. “You’re right Jen, sorry I got worked up. I guess… I just wish people would support Shepard.”

“Yeah, it’s one thing if normal citizens don’t believe her, but without the Council’s support….”

“Right. She can’t do anything. Did you know that she sacrificed Alliance ships to save the Council? And they can’t even do her the tiny favor of hearing her out.”

“But if the Council accepted the Evil Death Ship thing there would probably be pandemonium. Still, I bet she’s caught a lot of shit for prioritizing them over the Alliance, huh?”

“Probably. She can handle it, though. Never complains, even when everything goes to hell. If someone can find a way to stop the Reapers, it’s her.”

“And you’re okay not being there with her to do it?”

“She’s definitely unstoppable, but I think it’ll take her a little while to figure out a plan. And when she does, I’ll be right there with her.”

“You’ll dump all your open cases on me and then bolt again, huh?”

Garrus looked at Jen, mandibles flaring into a grin. “In a heartbeat.”

Jen stared for a moment, taken aback by Garrus’ sudden change in attitude. Then, after a good-natured chuckle, she said, “So what, you guys are gonna be Spectre best friends, taking down all the evil in the galaxy back to back?”

Now it was Garrus’ turn to pause. He hadn’t considered what his position on Shepard’s team would be if he also managed to become a Spectre. Would he have his own team? Would he opt to be her second-in-command? _Could_ he, on an Alliance ship? But the Normandy was a collaboration between the Alliance and the Hierarchy, anyway, so—

“Wait, wait,” Jen’s voice jumbled his thoughts. “SPECTRE SPOUSES!!!”

Garrus froze.

“’Cause I mean, have you _heard_ yourself talk about the woman? If she has half as many positive things to say about you as you do about her, you’ll be married within a year!”

Garrus continued staring at Jen, although it seemed like his surroundings were slowly dissolving and being replaced by the image of Shepard. What was Jen talking about? How had Garrus been talking about Shepard? He tried to remember what he’d said, but he could only see Shepard’s eyes looking at him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, he looked around and, noticing their surroundings, simply said, “We’re here.”

Naturally, Jen wouldn’t let Garrus’ brain-shutdown in the car go, and she teased him all the way to the 5th floor, but as soon as the elevator doors opened she was cut off by Butler rushing towards them.

“Listen,” he said urgently, ushering them toward his desk. “We found Altai’s moles, but they keep in regular contact with the dealer running the warehouse, and they refuse to give the dealer the all-clear unless we release them. Obviously, that’s not gonna happen, so I figure you’ve only got a few hours before they get suspicious and start packing up their operation. We already figured out the locations of the sublevel tunnels’ outlets and forwarded the information to Captain Naventina. He’s probably getting ready to send backup right now, so you two head straight to the warehouse.”

“Will do,” Garrus replied without hesitation. “Thanks, Butler.”

In the car, they came up with their cover—inspectors checking the infrastructure and facilities of the building—and agreed that they should each carry one pistol with as many thermal clips as they could conceal. They would have to stop by the Private Infrastructure and Building Safety Office to borrow uniforms and a vehicle, so they called the Lower Zakera C-Sec Department to request that the necessary documents and permissions be forwarded to Jen’s omni-tool. They changed at the PIBS Office, and headed directly from there to the warehouse.

As they landed outside the warehouse, they saw a couple of what seemed to be mercenaries standing watch. Their weapons weren’t visible—the Citadel had recently begun to take steps against open carrying of weapons by anyone other than C-Sec officers—but their matching armor and watchful posture told Garrus and Jen to be wary.

Garrus strolled up to them casually and flashed a badge at them, declaring, “We’re here from the Private Infrastructure and Building Safety Office of Zakera Ward. We’re scheduled to check this building. This is an Altai Mineral Works storage warehouse, correct?”

“Correct…” the human standing on the right side of the door answered suspiciously. “We didn’t hear about any inspection.”

“We go where the boss tells us to,” Garrus responded dismissively. “We won’t tamper with any of the merchandise—we know how you mining companies are, _especially_ with eezo—we’re just here to inspect the building.”

The mercs exchanged glances, but before they could do anything dangerous like radioing their boss to ask for orders, Jen added, “If you don’t let us in, we’ll be forced to come back with C-Sec.”

That opened the door right away.

The warehouse was the typical Citadel warehouse setup on a somewhat smaller scale—high ceilings, trailers that were sometimes empty and sometimes filled with crates, mechanical arms for moving cargo around, and more crates scattered around. They would have adequate cover in case of a firefight.

They headed to an elevated office in the back of the warehouse, accessible by two ramps, one on either side. Garrus noted the mercs eyeing him and Jen suspiciously. He examined the layout of the building, while also noting that the number of crates was abnormal. It occurred to him that, rather than simply a dangerous amount of red sand, the people behind this warehouse might be involved in drug smuggling _and_ weapons smuggling. He didn’t know which was worse. Considering the outcome of a firefight in a warehouse full of illegal weapons, he idly wondered if any of the mercs was carrying a good assault rifle that he could lift from their corpse early in the fight.

As they approached the ramp on the left side of the office, Garrus noticed that there was a door at the bottom of each ramp. He assumed that they led to the sublevel escape passageways. If anything, he could probably detain at least a few of them on their way out. Finally, they came to the door to the office. It opened with a hiss.

“I thought I told you all not to come in h—” a gruff voice began. The human man had been typing busily, but when he turned to see the two people standing in the doorway, he stood slowly, turning to face them. His eyes widened in horror, trained on Garrus’ face.

“Nice to see you again, Kishpaugh.”


	5. Chapter 5

Kishpaugh, the criminal that had gotten away in Garrus’ last case on the Citadel before leaving with Shepard, now stood in front of him, mouth agape. Garrus could see in the corner of his visor that Kishpaugh’s heart rate had spiked and that his breathing had hitched.

“Vakarian,” Kishpaugh said, attempting to seem unshaken even though Garrus knew better. “I thought your last encounter with me ended your career with C-Sec. That was a fiasco, friend.” His voice shook.

“This time, it looks like I’ve got a whole warehouse full of evidence, _friend_.”

“Congratulations,” Kishpaugh returned, voice still wavering. Garrus noticed his right hand begin to shimmer and braced himself, wishing Private Infrastructure made uniforms with built-in shields. “Good luck with your investigation!”

Immediately, Garrus and Jen were knocked back against the door. Garrus had the wind knocked out of him and landed face down. Quickly scrambling to get back up, he heard the swish of the opposite door opening. Kishpaugh was escaping. But as he got to his feet to pursue, he heard the beeping of a grenade and, without taking time to confirm, grabbed Jen’s hand and dashed through the door behind him as it opened. They rolled down the ramp and, given an extra push from the blast, slammed against the wall across from the office. As they rushed to find cover and ready their weapons, they heard Kishpaugh’s voice on a loudspeaker.

“TEAMS BRAVO AND CHARLIE, GET THE CRATES OUT—I REPEAT, GET THE CRATES OUT. ALPHA TEAM, KILL THE INTRUDERS.”

It seemed like they would be fighting their way out.

As Garrus had predicted, the crates around the warehouse provided the cover that they needed in the situation. Garrus switch his visor to its heat sensor setting to see what they were dealing with. Through the crates, he could see many heat signatures clumped together. In all, he counted 15. He and Jen were in the corner of the room at the bottom of the ramp, crouched behind a stack of crates, and their enemies were moving toward them, meaning to surround them.

As they weren’t wearing armor, all Garrus had was a pistol, his omnitool, and his visor. And Jen, of course. Now would be the ideal time for him to use the tactical decision-making skills he’d learned under Shepard, and he was sure he could make it work.

“Jen,” he whispered. “You’re a biotic, right?”

She nodded. Excellent. But he still had to think fast. The enemies probably knew where they were. Glancing out from behind the crates again, he saw that the mercs were approaching them in three clumps, which would make them relatively easy to take out if they didn’t scatter. The mercs had the advantage of knowing the warehouse better than their guests, but whether they had the skill to use that knowledge to their advantage was a different matter. One group was walking boldly towards Garrus and Jen, touting pistols and assault rifles and paying little attention to the cover available to them. They were led by a man wearing armor that had built-in shields, as Garrus’ visor informed him. The other groups were close behind, probably for backup, so Garrus assumed that the leader of “Alpha Team” was likely the shielded man that approached him. Taking him out first would make their job much easier.

Between their hiding spot and the mercs was another stack of crates. He looked at Jen again and said, “How much weight can you lift?”

“I can put down a singularity, if anything. That’ll get four or five of them in the air, if we can get them close enough together.”

“Alright, Jen. There’s a stack of crates just in front of that ramp. I’m gonna move up and take out the head guy’s shields. As soon as I’m gone I want you to lay down that singularity.”

“Copy that.”

Garrus rolled into his next spot of cover and, for an instant, felt bullets fly off of his shields. After he scrambled into position, he peeked out behind him to see four men flailing around, suspended in midair and one man looking back at them, bewildered. While he was distracted, Garrus overloaded his shields, and before he knew what hit him the leader was yanked back into the singularity, now floating alongside his underlings. Garrus, with Jen’s help, swiftly put them out of their misery.

The rest was clean. They moved up and worked in tandem, Jen lifting and Garrus shooting, and took most of the remaining mercs out with a swiftness that left Garrus nostalgic for his days with Shepard. The few stragglers that had fallen back before they could be killed by Garrus and Jen found themselves ambushed by backup officers that had been sent from the closest security box to take care of the arrest and collection of the drugs. When he saw this, Garrus ran over to them and barked, “Status report!”

“Sir! Captain Naventina’s group is outside. They detained the mercenaries and the Red Sand has been confiscated!”

Garrus sighed gratefully, relaxing. Had Kishpaugh or the other mercs managed to escape, especially with the drugs, it would have been his fault for letting Kishpaugh get the better of him.

“You did it, Garrus,” Jen said with a grin, slapping him on the arm.

“Is the Captain’s team out back?” Garrus addressed the officers again.

“Yes, sir! Through the sublevel passages.”

“Thanks. Good work.”

Garrus marched out the door behind him, after nodding to Jen, who followed close behind. He needed to confirm Kishpaugh’s arrest. Needed to see him in cuffs where he belonged.

It was a short trip through the passage, and he shortly came to an alleyway that was filled with mercs (and some merc corpses), Upper Zakera officers, and security box officers. There were also stacks of crates, some of which had been opened to reveal Red Sand. The area was lit by flashing patrol car lights, and either side of the alleyway was blocked off by said patrol cars. After briefly scanning the scene, Garrus found Captain Naventina and rushed over. He hadn’t seen Kishpaugh, and was growing increasingly apprehensive.

“Captain Naventina,” he breathlessly approached his CO.

“Ah, Vakarian! We got the mercs, we got the warehouse, and we stopped ‘em before they got the Sand out. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this stuff isn’t eezo.” He gestured to the crates, which littered the alley. “Good work, Vakarian.”

“Sir, what about Kishpaugh?”

“Kishpaugh?”

“He’s the one running this warehouse! He recognized me. Got the jump on us and made a break for it.”

“The mercs all came out this way. Didn’t see Kishpaugh.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Garrus hissed. He had escaped _again_. But Garrus had him this time. He was sure he could get one of these mercs to talk, plus he and Jen had actually _seen_ Kishpaugh running this place, a warehouse filled with red sand. This would work out somehow.

“It’s alright, Garrus,” Jen echoed his thoughts, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got him this time.”

“Thanks, Jen. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Vakarian,” Captain Naventina chimed in, “Let’s get all this cleaned up. Debrief afterwards at the station.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Garrus began to help with cleanup and documenting, not sure whether to be frustrated over the loss of Kishpaugh or proud of his accomplishment. He wavered back and forth in his mind while escorting handcuffed mercs to the patrol cars, tagging the crates of Red Sand, and helping to mark off the crime scene appropriately. He and Jen had killed 15 mercs in addition to discovering a warehouse full of smuggled drugs. The paperwork was definitely going to be a pain in the ass. But once Kishpaugh was put away for good, it would all be worth it.

He worked much longer than usual that day, but it felt good. At the debriefing his return to detective status was acknowledged, although it wouldn’t be official until the paperwork went through, of course. But as far as Captain Naventina and the Upper Zakera C-Sec Department were concerned, Garrus was an investigator again. He also received his first assignment: finding Kishpaugh and putting him away for good. He requested Jen’s assistance, which she smugly accepted. And then it was paperwork. Now, however, he had a desk on the detectives’ floor, rather than a cramped cube on the floor below, where the patrol officers did their paperwork. To kick off his fresh start as a detective, he stayed late after transferring some of his things to his new desk, and did all of the paperwork from the Altai case. Bullets fired, thermal clips used, mercs killed and why; an account of how and why Kishpaugh escaped and why Garrus felt that it was important to pursue him; inventory of the drugs that were found; a list of names of those killed and arrested, etc. It was tedious, but the excitement of having his position back kept him going.

When he was finished, he took a moment to take in his surroundings. Everything was exactly the same as he’d left it when he went to work with Shepard, but it still felt fresh now. He began to allow himself to finally feel settled into his life on the Citadel again, and as he relaxed a part of Naventina’s email at the beginning of the Altai case popped into his mind: _Your father called and asked me to give you as much support as I can._ His father. If he was going to be back on the Citadel as a C-Sec officer, maybe he should consider talking to his father for once, like an adult. He pulled up his omni-tool and hesitantly punched in a message. Then he cleared up his desk, sent in his remaining paperwork, and headed to Aquarius.

When he got there, Castis was waiting for him at a table with two plates of food and two drinks. Garrus took his seat in front of his father, who eyed him silently and cautiously. Perhaps even timidly. Garrus took a deep breath. After a moment, he spoke.

“Thanks for—ahem—thank you for your help with the case.”

“ _My_ help?” His father stared at him blankly.

“Yeah, you, ah… Spoke to the captain for me. I don’t think I would have gotten it done if you hadn’t put in that good word for me. Thank you.”

“You’re, uh… you’re welcome, Garrus.”

A pause. Garrus searched the table for something to fix his gaze on. He’d called the meeting, but he supposed all he’d wanted to do was give his thanks. Now that he had done that, he wasn’t sure what to do. His hand hovered over the eating utensils, not knowing if he should just start eating.

His father broke the silence, though. “I just wanted to have a meal with you. And I do want to hear you out, Garrus. E-even about this Spectre.”

Garrus looked at his father, now. It felt as though it was the first time he was actually seeing him in a long time. He looked tired. His breathing and heart rate were slow and steady, his body temperature a little lower than average. He sat tall, as always, but he also blinked slowly, and his features seemed softened, somehow. Perhaps that was just the dim blue lights of the lounge, though.

“I went after Dr. Saleon,” Garrus finally began.

“And you killed him?” Castis said cautiously. Garrus could tell he was keeping his tone as free of judgment as he could.

“Well… I wanted to shoot him on sight. When I thought about him—about what he’d done and what he’d been allowed to get away with—it made me want to strangle him. But I would have settled for a bullet between the eyes, too.” Garrus found himself speaking surprisingly candidly to his father. Castis only nodded, and made no objections.

“But when we found him,” Garrus continued, “Shepard wouldn’t let me do it.”

“And that… didn’t make you even angrier?”

“It did. She said we would turn him in and he would rot in jail.”

“Wow. Some Spectre,” Castis chuckled.

“I _know_ ,” Garrus said, relaxing a little more. “That wasn’t even the worst part. After she said that, he pulled a gun on us. Of course, he was a scientist, not a soldier. That fight was over before it started.”

“You ended up killing him anyway,” Castis responded in a quiet, thoughtful voice. “You can’t have been very satisfied with that outcome.”

“Not at all. I was furious, confronted her right there on Saleon’s ship. From the time I started working with her, I’d expressed how happy I was to get away from C-Sec and work with a Spectre, but she was always reminding me that we would do things _right_. It was so frustrating—she just reminded me so much of _you_. But I’ve been a fan of hers since the Skyllian Blitz, so I figured I could learn a lot from her anyway. But that, that was the last straw. I asked her what the point was if we just killed him anyway. Why couldn’t we have just killed him from the start? He deserved as much. In that moment, I was convinced that her methods didn’t work. That she was just another one tied to the bureaucracy. I wanted to try to get her to be a _real_ Spectre.”

“So how did she respond? It must have been pretty damn good.”

“She said that we can’t predict how people will act, but we can control how we respond.”

“Simply put, give people a chance… Interesting.”

“Yeah. It made me think that I can never be her, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to try and be like her. There’s enough bloodshed out there already, and it would be a shame to needlessly contribute to that. I learned a lot from her.” He paused for a moment, and then, looking his father in the eyes, added, “I, ah… I learned a lot from you, too, Dad.”

Castis’ mandibles twitched, and he returned Garrus’ gaze, filled with emotion. He then cleared his throat and shifted.

“It’s getting cold,” he gestured to Garrus’ plate, and then picked up his own eating utensils and dug in.

“So that’s the kind of woman the first human Spectre is, huh? Given my knowledge of humans and Spectres, that is… not what I expected.”

“So, you won’t panic when I tell you that I meant it when I said I want to reapply for consideration, right?”

Castis paused in his eating to glance up at his son, before saying, “Well, if you’re anything like this Commander Shepard of yours… I suppose I don’t have anything to worry about.”

Pleased with this response, Garrus tucked into his food. His father was being surprisingly tolerant. Perhaps the time apart had made him reconsider his attitude. In truth, Garrus was glad to have reconciled with his father. Their rocky relationship had probably contributed to his use of _unorthodox_ methods in his past investigations. Now that, through Shepard’s influence, he had become able to understand his father’s perspective, Garrus was glad to have his father understand him, too, if only a little.

For the rest of the dinner, they chatted about random subjects pleasantly. Castis picked up the tab again, and Garrus apologized for their recent quarrel. His father waved it away, conceding that he hadn’t quite opened his mind enough at the time. By the end of the conversation, he seemed much more energized. Garrus went home feeling pleased and with a small hope of more meetings like this one.

By the time he got back to his apartment, he was exhausted. He had worked well past the end of his shift, and it seemed as though he would fall asleep as soon as he got to bed. As he made to power down his omni-tool for the night, however, he got a message notification.

                         You awake?

                                   -Sol

Like clockwork. Their father really did keep in touch as well as Solana had claimed the last time she spoke to Garrus. Garrus chuckled to himself as he accessed his computer and called his younger sister.

“Hey, sis,” he said when she picked up.

“Hey, bro,” she responded cheerfully. It was nice to see her in good spirits.

“How are you, kid?”

“Ugh, ‘kid’? You’re not even that much older than me!”

“Ok, but that squeaky voice sounds like it belongs to a kid to me.”

“Hah! Wait ‘til you’re back on Palaven. I’ll show you my improved hand-to-hand skills and then we’ll see if I’m a kid.”

“So, you made me call you after _hours_ of overtime so that you could… challenge me to a fight?”

“You started it!”

They laughed. Garrus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so… _light_. Even though Kishpaugh had gotten away, things finally seemed to be moving in the right direction.

“I heard you and Dad had a friendly dinner tonight.”

“Nothing happens without you hearing it, huh?”

“Not in the Vakarian family! And anyway, I told you, Dad’s waaaay better at keeping in touch than you.”

“Right. Well yeah, we talked about some stuff.”

“He mentioned Commander Shepard…” she prompted.

“Yeah, I told him a little about her. They’re a lot alike, to be honest. More than I want to admit.”

“Why? You don’t want to compare your beautiful young commander to our crusty old dad?”

“ _Sol_ …” he protested in response.

Solana laughed lightheartedly.

“I’m just teasing, Garrus. It’s all work with you, anyway.”

“Well, yeah. Speaking of which, I got my first case as a detective. Kishpaugh is going to get what’s coming to him this time.”

“Kishpaugh… that’s the one that Dad let go, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Garrus said jokingly.

“Seriously, Gar, don’t overdo,” Solana responded gravely. “You just got your position back and this is one hell of a test, right off the bat.”

“I’ll be alright, Sol. Thanks for watching out for me. I won’t screw things up this time.”

“I know. But I never thought you screwed things up, you know. You just needed a little guidance.”

Garrus laughed. He was lucky to have such a sweet little sister.

“Send mom my love,” he said, and then they said their goodbyes.

Garrus slept well that night, dreaming of catching Kishpaugh and locking him up for good, then meeting Shepard for that drinking lesson she’d promised him. It would become the last good dream of her he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally have an update here..... Life has been busy and/or trying for the last couple months (I'm wading through job applications aaaaa), plus the first half of this chapter is actually a full rewrite from the original draft, so apologies for the wait. The next few chapters should be smooth sailing, though, so as long as my beta (who is busier than me since she's an engineer) has some spare time to check for me they should come out relatively quickly!


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